Broken
by StayAlive
Summary: The Capitol waits in vain for the Annie Cresta that went into the arena. What a surprise they'll get when it's me that comes out. Broken.


**This is just an idea I had about when Annie is first out of the arena. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hunger Games, only my small ideas put into it for this story.**

I stand in front of a full length mirror, my body exposed to my prep team who tries desperately to recreate the Annie Cresta the Capitol has come to adore for her innocence in the interview to the slight determination shown in training. Surely, they believe in vain, that the Annie they had seen on the screen was an act to win. No, they cannot know that the arena had recreated that Annie, permanently, into the creature I now see standing before me, eyes large and wide, completely contrasting her small, pale face. Her hair looks like one of my first nets, tangled in all the wrong places with no hope of repair. Would they simply shave it off and throw it away?

I count the ribs…one…two…three…four… I grow bored and look to where her hips protrude from her body grotesquely. Colorful arms and hands interrupt my vision. They carefully go through my eyebrows which apparently had grown back in the arena. I see the same thing happening to the girl in front of me. Pluck, pluck, pluck. It seems so far away that I don't flinch. It actually reminds me of the rain on my body the day after the bloodbath. It had soothed me as I watched the blood run over the rocks… I close my eyes now, trying to let this far away feeling calm me.

They attack my hair now. I feel no pain from the short yanks. How can I when I had seen so many stomachs torn open, throats sliced with the blood running free, eyes going blank? The combs change, their teeth growing closer together as my hair becomes more manageable. Teeth. The teeth of tributes, mouths opened wide, crying for help. My teeth, grinding together, my entire being fighting against the urge to aid them. But no, I must be the one to survive. So I keep swimming which used to be such a natural thing. The others were struggling, trying to keep their heads above water even at the cost of their ally's life, trying to draw breath. I stay afloat with easy, practiced strokes. Others float, others sink, the fight out of them. Others gradually grow still, the breath leaving them, succumbing to death.

I resurface to reality as much as possible. It is sudden, brought on by a loud clang of something falling…falling and I am falling back under as well. The echoing continues in my head until it grows into loud booms with a tentative beat. Each for a death.

The squeals jerk me back. Exclaims of how gorgeous fill the air around me. I am clothed now in blue. I can't look at it too long. I swear that there are limp bodies floating there in the swirls. The rest of my body looks almost normal, the bruises covered, but I am still sore, moving slowly for the sake of my tight muscles. Looking closely, I realize everything is perfect, but my eyes. They are wide, confused, and glazed over. Their shallowness does not permit my prep team to see this. M stylist comes in nest for approval. He gives me a blinding smile that I am too numb to return. Then I am ushered out into the hallway. They stay behind and I'm alone. Squinting, I see a figure leaning against the wall. Dazed by the bright lights, I walk unsteadily towards him.

He sees me and pushes himself off the wall and closes the distance between us much faster. He is grinning, eyes expecting me to be happy to see him, but I no longer have the strength to smile at him or laugh at his jokes. The grin widens as he is closer, but all I can focus on is that grin. It's the same _he_ had given me back in the arena, when he had found me, my fellow district tribute, Carp. He had been so happy and immediately tried to convince his fellow Careers to accept me into their alliance.

Finnick's smile is sliding off his face at my vacant look just like Carp's head slid off his neck and the Career's beheaded him and looked to me next. Finnick settles his hands on my arms, but I see the Careers looking at me with bloodlust in their eyes. I break away from Finnick's hold and take off down the hallway. I hear him after me, but I am back in the arena, searching frantically for a hiding spot. Strong arms wrap around me as I scream and struggle to break loose, trying to bite, scratch, kick myself free. He doesn't give an inch and I'm ready for the Career to break my neck, end it all. My screams become more hysterical. Animal instincts kick in and I'm fighting for self-preservation.

"Annie, Annie, it's me," Finnick's voice sounds in my ear. I freeze and grow limp.

My mentor turns me around so that we are looking at each other. His eyes are filled with pain while mine are so far away. I wonder if he knows that I now share his pain, I wonder if he can look so deep. Maybe he can't. Maybe he sees dead tributes like I do. I become aware that I'm mumbling something under my breath, lips barely moving.

"I didn't kill anyone… I didn't." It fades away as I become aware. Does he know? Did he know how sad I was after watching the bloodbath from my hiding spot? The happiness I felt when Carp had found me? How everything shattered when he was beheaded? When his blood splattered my face? How I had had to swim through waters filled with dead and dying bodies? Does he understand?

Instead, he pulls me into an embrace and whispers words of comfort to me. "I know, I know. The Games are over and you can go home now."

His words are no comfort to me, but I have no control to tell him otherwise. Why doesn't he understand? When I close my eyes, I am back in the arena. When I run, I am being chased by Careers. When I swim, I am the only one who can.

The next few days are a blur between the arena and where I really am, neither are very clear. I catch myself mumbling with no one around to hear me. The first interview and recap drives nails into my head. I answer the questions as best as I can without going back to what happened, but I can tell the audience isn't satisfied. I don't watch the recap. I find it too hard to follow the images of a girl slowly losing her mind until it finally breaks with the death of her friend. I'm almost certain that this year's Games must not be a favorite. The victor is still clearly in shock, is no longer mentally stable, and only won because she could swim.

I look out into the crowd and find Finnick. He doesn't know I'm looking at him, he is staring at me so intensely, without seeing. My eyes flitter away and for the rest of the recap, I space out, thinking of nothing. I can't because the only thing occupying my mind is my most recent experiences. They swallow me up and I become unresponsive for the remainder of the evening.

The next day, I am put in front of the mirror again to get ready for the final interview. I look much better, my body is healthy with my ribs making a more subtle appearance. Though I hadn't eaten since my exit of the arena, the Capitol had been pumping nutrients into. That crazed, confused look has not left my eyes.

I am taken away and led into a room where Caesar is waiting for me. He kisses my cheek and greets me with a dazzling smile. My small one in return can't compare.

"Annie Cresta, I can't begin to express what a pleasure it is to see you again Congratulations on your win." He grasps my hands within his.

I give him another smile which is unsure and wobbly. Flinching from the contact, I untangle my hands from his. Without a word, I sit on the plush chair from where I would be interviewed.

"So, Annie, how do you feel about your victor?" Caesar asks after the cue.

I look at his blankly. "I get to go home now."

He chuckles and says something smart to the viewers tuning in. It fails to register in my mind.

"Everyone around me doesn't have to die anymore," I continue.

Caesar becomes as serious as what my face must portray to him. His voice becomes deep and heavy, not light and playful like a few seconds ago. He leans forward on his knees, hands folded, towards me, as if I was about to open the doors to my mind where I would enlighten the world as to what the arena was like. I don't think the world would want to go into my mind with its muddled thoughts.

"In the arena, everyone who was there had to die in order for you to win. That's why alliances are so hard to make." I surprise myself. It's the clearest thought I've had about the Games transferred into words.

Caesar is unable to get another response like that out of me again. They become shorter with each question as I slowly go back into my shell. At the mention of Carp, I almost clam up completely.

"What was it like?" Caesar asks softly. "Seeing him die in front of you like that."

My chin falls to my chest and my heart beats at an uncontrollable rate. "Terrifying," I whisper. The shaking begins in my hands which I clutch together in my lap.

"And then the Careers were on you," Caesar states, his voice sympathizing

"No grieving," I add. "Had to hide."

Suddenly, the shaking takes me away. I am unable to answer their question, I can't even comprehend them. I m aware of the show cut short and a warm arm around my shoulders, guiding me to my feet. He must be aware of my shaking for his arm tightens almost protectively.

Once we are alone, I glance up to see Finnick with his worried sea green eyes gazing at me. They are the mirror image of the ocean back home. I want to lose myself in them, but I know what will happen if I look too deep. I'm just not in the mood to see floating bodies today. By the time we reach my room, my shaking has turned into small shivers, rippling across my body suddenly. My back aches from trying to contain them.

Finnick opens the door for me. I thank him quietly and enter. I turn and it seems like Finnick wants to say something, but my mind is still not functioning right. We can talk when I can control myself better. So I close the door and lay on my bed. The ceiling is white. I stare at it.

Tomorrow I go home. District Four, fishing. Spearing fish to get by every day. I can't do it. The water is one thing, but ending something's life? Seeing that life leave its eyes. I can't. What will I do then? Fishing is out. Swimming will take time. Will, I simply stay in my house in the Victor's Village and slowly drive myself to beyond insanity? If I can't find something to do, I will spend every waking hour in that arena and, asleep, I will never get any rest as the nightmares will grow only worse.

Or will the Capitol use me like they do with countless others? Like Finnick. They had thought me pretty on the chariot, innocent in my interview, capable in the games. Will I become like Finnick, a sex symbol to fans of the Hunger Games? Certainly I cannot play that part. I can barely hold an interview with Caesar.

It's like my mind suddenly turns off. I'm floating, not in water, but in oblivion where I leave my thoughts behind.

The next morning, Finnick and I are at the table alone. There's a sense of hysteria in my heart and I don't exactly know why. I know I'm going on that train again, but it's hard to convince myself that I'm not going to face my impending death. I feel myself beginning to slip into my thoughts again. It's then that I become this unresponsive creature and my vision grows hazy. My brows furrow as I force my vision to clear and pin my mind to reality. At first, it's like trying to keep jello pinned to a tree. Impossible.

Finnick's gaze is on me. Just with a glance of my own, I can tell he is torn with what to do. His muscles are strained and his hand holds his glass so tightly that I'm ready for it to shatter. My mind slides from that to the task at hand. It takes quite a bit of time, but, with slow determination, I clear out the blurry mass of thought except my goal. It's the clearest I've seen in quite a while now.

"What do I do when we get home?" I ask slowly and quietly.

It seems at first that Finnick has not heard me. I'm about to work up the strength to repeat the question when he blinks, surprised, and stumbles over a few incoherent words.

I am pleased. It seems I have pulled myself out of a very blank spot.

Finnick chooses his words carefully, not wanting to draw out a complicated conversation. It would be a while before our bantering from before the Games would go back to normal. If it ever did.

"You can do whatever you want," Finnick finally replies.

"I can't," I manage as I look away. I can only hope he understands.

Finnick looks at me thoughtfully for a minute. "When I was younger, my father taught me how make nets. It was supposed to be a lesson in fishing." I tried my best to cling to what he said, to take in every word. He must've noticed my extra effort since he went to the point next. "Anyway, after I got the hang of it, I actually started to like it. It was comforting to me, even though I was terrible. I swear, every net I made was thrown into the garbage instead of the sea." His smile seemed to be expecting something from me, but it only succeeded in making me more confused. "After the Games," he continued quickly, "making nets was like a kind of therapy. Maybe it'll be good for you, too, Annie."

Something tugs at my lips and I realize I am smiling at him. Small, but something better than a blank look.

"Thanks, Finnick," I whisper trying to meet his eyes, but my gaze soon drops and I stare at my hands folded in my lap. Nothing is going through my mind, but the smile stays on m lips, my mind slipping into a pleasant haze.

It all evaporates on the train. The only way I can move my feet is from Finnick's strong arm around my waist. For some reason he's convinced that he can leave me in my room. At first everything is fine. I watch the trees pass outside, think of home. It twists in my mind. I start missing home, terribly. I no longer feel like I'm going there, but away, like it's too good to be true. I push myself away from the window and stumble to the ground.

I'm going back to the arena. I'm going to die. This time, I'm the one who's going to get her head chopped off. I'll never see anyone I love again. I'm hyperventilating and I know it. I'm lightheaded, dizzy, and my heart is pounding too fast.

Everything's over and I'm a million miles away, unable to draw breath. A scream echoes around me and I can't be sure it's me. It continues on and on. I really begin to doubt it's me. A noise in the hallway brings me back to listen. The scream is continuing far away.

"Will someone shut that girl up?" It's my escort. Her heels are clicking furiously along the floor, away from my room. Other, heavier, steps are the ones approaching me.

Hands settle gently on my shoulders and the screams fade. I collapse against a muscular, warm chest. Arms encircle me and, for once, the feeling of human closeness does not have fear pouring out of every pore in my body. Soft, calming words from a deep voice tell me what to do. They tell me to breathe and to relax. I do this for a while until my body resists and I end up crying, soaking through his shirt. His voice lulls me to where no one else can follow.

I wake to hear his voice. It is still there just like he is, his body pressed comfortingly against my own. I sigh in content as I settle my mind to take in his words. He is talking about the ocean, just the ocean. He's not telling a story, but describing it. I don't know why, but it calms me like nothing else has. I don't sleep again, but that happy haze surrounds me and I let his words carry me to the sea. There is only me, the salty waves, and the sun sparkling off the water's surface.

When I come back to myself, I am alone. I am confused, but calm. I am no longer of a train to my death. Where I am actually doesn't register in my mind. I crawl to the window and sit to watch the mixes of greens and browns go past. I lean my head against the cool surface and stay there like a statue, a statue that has no sense of time or emotion.

At one point the door to my room opens. Finnick is standing there, his eyes searching me.

"Dinner's ready, if you're hungry," he says with hope in his voice.

I don't have to concentrate to speak, instead the actions and words simply bubble out of me. I shake my head, brown wavy hair falling around me.

"Oh, but I already ate before I left the cave. I'm not hungry now."

The cave. That place was my hell as I struggle to survive. When everything fell around me and my mind started shutting down.

Finnick's eyes grew sad. A voice spoke behind him, thick with the Capitol accent.

"Just leave her."

Leave me? The cold from the window surrounds my body. I'm gloating, looking at the sky as the hovercraft leaves me behind. I can't call them back, my mouth won't open. Didn't I win? Is it because I will always be trapped in the arena? Because I will be.


End file.
